IMPERFECT
by Hemel Lassie
Summary: A medical emergency for Charlie leads to information that has serious fall out. I bet this is not going where most of you thought it was. The complete Chapter 3 is now up. Reread. Ch 4 tomorrow, fingers crossed.
1. Chapter 1

Imperfect

By Sylvia M. Bartlett

Aka Hemel Lass(ie) aka LadyLochinvar aka Hornetlady(SBM)

Part One: Moments That Make You Go 'Hmmm'

"I – I have to have some tests." Charlie stumbled over his explanation, rubbing his forehead wearily, blearily.

Don felt the fear slam into his heart like the Amtrak train had hit an SUV recently and wiped out 6 family members. This was his own train wreck and the pain and the closeness to the other event was illuminating and probably exponentially increasing the degree of panic he felt. Tests.

Charlie had suffered through a sudden spate of severe, severe headaches that had induced nausea and vomiting severe enough to make Charlie who rarely took sick days to call in sick to Cal Sci and apparently stayed in the bathroom, close to the porcelain God. He hadn't called and told Don what was going on, but the older brother Spidey sense must have been working, because the third day in to Charlie's illness, he had suddenly handed the case he and his team were working over to be temporarily covered by his team. He had just KNOWN he needed to go by the Craftsman and check on Charlie. Good thing he had listened to that tingling sense something was amiss because he had found Charlie collapsed on the floor of the bathroom closest to his bedroom, semi-conscious on the floor in the Craftsman house he owned, because he was in 'shock'.

Their dad was out of town on a business trip; Amita was off doing something with, and for, Mildred Finch; and, even Larry, recently back from outer space, was busy trying to 'decompress and return mentally and emotionally to this earthly sphere we call home'.

There had been no back up. No one to fill in the gap of keeping an eye on the mathematical genius who sometimes neglected his physical needs when he was totally engaged in a fascinating, intellectual endeavor.

That the endeavor Charles had been engaged in was a case for Don and the team only increased the degree of guilt and fears his older brother was going through. Charles had said from the start (well, more muttered than said) that the case was an incredibly complex one requiring more brain power than he thought he had left to share.

School was still winding down. This was an intensive time for a professor from the get go and Don had to have results now. His efforts to balance the needs of his profession with the needs of the public, the FBI and Don to get a resolution had been the drain that took Charles to the very brink of death, but NOW?

_Come on, Eppes. Do not panic. That is NOT going to help Charlie. _ Don drew a shaky, but deep breath. _Okay. I can do this. I can be the reassuring, supportive big brother._

The words came out of his mouth didn't follow through on that intent though. They came out through trembling lips as he rode the crest of his own emotional tsunami. His distress was evident, and Charles Edward Eppes was, after all, a bona fide genius.

"Don, don't get all in a tizzy. It is probably just a bug that I didn't notice I had. This is my own fault. I got stuck on stupid again. Don't think you asking for my help had anything to do all of this."

"Don't kid a kidder, Chuck, damn it. I pressured you in to helping with this case. You told me you were already overtaxed and exhausted. I played the big brother guilt card, again. That is why this whole thing happened!" Don winced. So much for supportive! He sounded overbearing and angry.

Sighing, he tried to adjust the tack on the main sail. "Charlie, I understand what you are trying to say, but, it's my job to worry about you. Especially when Dad isn't here to do it."

"Don't you dare tell Dad what is going on! With these fires raging and the weather and the possible terrorist threat…because Don, I am certain the three incidents are part of a singularity that is about to go supernova, if we don't track down the perps. With all that is going on? The last thing I want or need is to have Dad come rushing back here all 'red alert'.

"There is something big about to go down here in LA if we don't catch them and stop it. Bob Tompkins has already stated this is an issue of National Security and I am actually on the clock for you AND NSA, at the same time! It's not like I wouldn't be on this situation, even if you hadn't asked me to help."

"Charlie, if I don't call Dad, he is going to be totally pissed off. You are in the HOSPITAL, as an INPATIENT, for God's sake. He won't just get mad, he will go ballistic."

"How many times have I gone along with you when you kept stuff worse than this from our father, Don? YOU OWE ME. Consider this your pay back time. I want Dad to stay safely away from this area, especially until these fires get put out. God, half of the LA basin is burning to the dirt around our ears, Donnie! Cut me a little frickin' me slack." Charlie was yelling and pushing his hands against his temples. An alarm on the monitors keeping track of his medical status began blaring its message that something was amiss with the patient.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Charlie cried out. "Can't someone turn off those damn alarms? That noise is getting on my last remaining nerve!"

As if the request had been anticipated, before it was uttered, a nurse bustled in, running 'Red Alert' herself. "Sorry, Doctor Eppes. We should have set it up so that they only sounded at the nurse's station. " She quickly turned off the audible in the room of the annoying, but necessary alert device.   
"Doctor Eppes, you have to calm down. This is not helping that headache of yours…or your overall medical condition. Take some calming breathes!"

Don was totally stunned when the ordinarily well-mannered, gentle, kind hearted Charles did two things at once. Flipped the woman the one bird salute and retorted verbally. "How in the hell am I supposed to calm down with THAT racket? Quit telling me to calm down. It is NOT helping. I am not panicked. I am not going to have a freaking coronary. I just need some quiet and something to calm this pain, BUT NOT KNOCK ME OUT."

"What you need…" Don heard the nurse mutter 'sotto voce', "is about 48 hours of actual rest, but barring that, here's the next, best thing." She was already moving to administer two different meds into the IV port which would run it straight to Charles's system, providing maximum relief, in the minimum amount of time.

"THAT'S NOT GOING TO…" Charlie squeaked in alarm, trying to move to block the drug from reaching his system by pinching the IV closed, but his effort was intercepted and foiled by both Don and the nurse moving beyond Warp 12.

"It isn't going to knock you out. Just reduce some of the pressure in your head and take the edge off your pain." The nurse hastened to explain. "Trust me, please."

Charlie was slumping back against his pillows on the 90 degree raised hospital bed. "I need a basin. Where's the basin?"

Don grabbed the necessary item and put it below his brother's mouth, just before a stream of green bile began emerging.

Between spits after the initial blast of bile, Charlie spoke in a meeker, gentler, apologetic voice. "Um…Celeste? I think you need to add something for nausea. Again…"

Celeste pulled a third loaded syringe. "I come prepared!"

"Thank God for Girl Scouts." Charlie responded, fervently.

"Actually, it's more like thank God for a hotline to heaven, honey!" Celeste began the slow IV push of the needed med while gently coaching Charles to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth, slowly.

In spite of the fear clutching Don's heart, he couldn't hold back a grin at the woebegone expression on Charlie's face and the puppy dog eyes he was offering to the nurse, Celeste. "If you have a hotline to heaven, could you ask Adonai to send me a little more help here? I am going down for the third time, I think."

"No, you are not going down for the third time, Buddy." Don said, firmly grabbing Charles's shoulders and giving each a squeeze. "I am right here. Just grab on to me."

Celeste added, with a silvery laugh. "And me, too, honey. What am I, chopped liver?" Seeing Charlie green up a bit again, she gently patted his hand. "Bad choice of metaphors at this particular juncture, wasn't that?"

One corner of Charlie's lips quirked up towards a smile. "uh, yeah, Celeste? Let's skip the food references for awhile, huh????"

4


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Happy Mother's Day

Subtitled, _**A MESSAGE FROM MOM**_

By Hemel Lassie, Sylvia M. Bartlett

_Readers, I apologize, but this should be the last rewrite of this chapter. It just didn't feel right or complete, until now. Post this, the only amendments I foresee would be, editing for spelling or grammar errors. So, once more into the breach, dear friends. Alas…it turned out I neglected to include an incoming transmission Don received from his mother. So here it is. SMB 05-13-2007_

Don stared at his younger brother. After over two hours of fighting the nausea, the dizziness, etc., Charlie had finally fallen asleep. His sleep was restless. His face still twisted in pain occasionally and he often tensed as a wave of nausea hit him. Even in sleep, his brother was finding no ease.

Don was really worriedCharlie wasn't supposed to be this vulnerable. This was Charlie! He was healthy as a horse most of the time. Well, okay, Charles Edward Eppes was healthy as a horse except for those times when the intellectual demands of his restless mind overruled the part of him that knew he needed sleep and nourishment, just like any other human being.

_Amend your thinking here, Donnie, my sweet first born!_ _Sometimes your younger brother is more than clueless when it comes to taking care of himself. He has been known to go so deep down the Numb3rs hole, pursuing elusive and entrancing bits of meaning in equations to the degree that he neglects his physical needs enough for him to get sick, exhausted, and vulnerable to any bug or virus that happens to pass within a nano-second of his vicinity. He will neglect people and relationships, too. Not because he wants to, but because his genius mind is overloaded and spilling out interpretations of data at a rate he no longer has complete control over. At that point, Charlie will probably always need his back up. He would need a keeper, or maybe, a watcher, that some one to watch over our little one! While I was still around it was me. Now that task is left to you and Alan, sweetheart. I know you didn't mean to let Charlie fall through the cracks of over busy lives, but I was getting rather frantic. I am always WITH you, but I have not mastered the technique yet to break through that earth bound static the living have, darling Don. You need to start listening, inside…for that still, small quiet voice. I am always here. Listen up!_

This time though, Charlie's getting sick was NOT the result of self-neglect. This time Charlie's back up had failed to make sure someone was left standing watch over the Eppes' family brain trust's physical condition. That neglect was on big brother Don. He had failed to take over the watch when Alan left town.

_Donald David Eppes, don't you start with the guilt trip. That's a waste of time and energy! You are a man of action, sweet heart. You always were. Do NOT waste time thinking about what almost happened OR what might have happened. Think about what you need to do to prevent this happening again. Lessons learned, Don. Absorb and act on those lessons learned._

Don found himself remembering an image he had carried in his mind for years, when Charlie's difference was first becoming known about. The young boy didn't have the language yet to explain the numbers pouring through his brain, but he performed on certain development tests at a level far beyond his physical age. Those were difficult days because many of those testing the young Charles seemed to assume such savant type genius only came with an accompanying darker side of the coin. Words like autism, Asperger's, slowness to develop language skills had been bandied about. Eventually his mom and dad had to resort to making sure Don came along for testing or Charlie would simply withdraw, pulling his knees up in front of his eyes and quietly rocking in place, humming loudly to avoid the voices always asking him questions, always demanding cooperation, always testing and probing him. Only Don seemed able to keep his sibling from running within the safety of his own mind to hide from the strangers he didn't trust and the tests and questions he didn't like.

One day, struck by an odd attack of whimsy, Don had made a sketch of Charlie…the quiet, solitary child, up safe in his room, weaving magical incantations with his numbers, in ways even highly educated professors of mathematics could scarcely comprehend and all seemed to envy. Charlie was like some male version of Rapunzel, only safe up in his tower.

The image of his younger brother, pale and restless before him on the hospital bed was hard for him to reconcile with the memory of the image he has once drawn. Charlie hated hospitals with a passion. Charlie was smart. He wasn't supposed to get sick and nearly die because he had a bad headache and didn't think to tell his big brother. This was just SO WRONG!

Don dipped a washcloth into the basin of cool water and gently washed away the sweat that beaded on Charlie's face. The soothing contact worked its magic and Charlie sighed and he relaxed, perceptibly. In fact, he muttered "That feels so good. Thank you."

The big brother whispered back. "Don't mention it, Buddy. This is just what families do. I'm here, Charlie, and I am NOT going any where."

Charlie sighed again and seemed to sink deeper into a restful sleep as his older brother kept the watch, wiping the sick young man's face, arms, and hands. The soothing ministrations helped as much because of the physical touch and compassion they represented as any other factor.

Don fought the lump in his throat as he sent a thought winging heavenward. _I hope you can see this, Mom. This Sunday is Mother's Day. Dad said that Charlie and I getting close is the best Mother's day, birthday, anniversary gift we could ever have given you. I've got his back, Mom…and I promise you. I won't ever stand down from being there for Charlie…just like he is there for me. Your family misses you, Mom, but you are still with us, aren't you? You always will be. Love you, Mom. _

Don could have sworn he smelled his Mom's favorite perfume and the silvery tinkle of her laugh carried over the sound of the air conditioning being pumped from over head into the room.

"Family first, Donnie. That's what your mother and I always tried to teach you, son. I know you have an important job. I know how important some of the work Charlie's done with you these past few years has been, really, I do. I can only wildly guess at how many lives the two of you united and working together have saved these past few years; but, in the end, it should always be the needs of your immediate family that come first."

Don looked up towards the door. "Dad? How did you…?"

"Well," Alan chuckled, as he came in through the door, "shall we say you aren't the only one who had a visit from our personal version of Caspar, the Friendly Ghost. I was sitting in a conference room a few hours ago, alone. Trying to mentally prepare myself for my next presentation? And suddenly, right in the middle of the table, I saw the upper part of your mom. She just gave me THAT look, you know…the one where she is essentially saying with her eyes, 'I love you, Alan, but I swear, sometimes you are completely clueless when it comes to your own family. Charlie and Don need you. Now! Get the heck out of here and get to airport. Catch the night flight home. She even told me which hospital and the room number.' Just like that, I knew something was amiss and I knew I had to get here as soon as possible."

Alan walked over to the bedside of his younger son. He gently passed his hand across Charlie's forehead. "He's been having a rough time, huh?"

"Yeah, he's finally drifted off, but it's been real rough." Even as Don responded, Charlie whimpered a little in his sleep and tossed his head from side to side. Alan grabbed him by both cheeks to still the frantic motion. He leaned down and whispered some words in Yiddish in to his baby boy's closest ear. After those murmurings, he spoke louder in English. "Settle down, little one. It's okay. Your poppa and Don are right here. Settle down."

The words had the desired effect. Charlie sighed and all the tension just seemed to leave his body. Alan held his hand out gesturing for Don to wet another clean cloth. In tandem, the two began a systemic sponge bath. As they did, a slight smile unveiled itself on Charlie's lips and he murmured. "Thank you…oh, that feels SO good!"

"Well, your mom is giving us care instructions, little one."

Charlie managed to open his chocolate eyes. "Mom? Is she…is she here?"

Don answered that one. "You know, Buddy. I didn't realize this until a short while ago; but, I really don't think she ever left us. Not really. I mean…physically, she's gone. She did die, but she never left." Don looked at his father. "I am making NO sense at all, am I?"

Seeing Charlie trying to raise his upper body off the bed, Don moved to restrain him. "Easy now. Just relax. She isn't here, here. You can't see her, Buddy."

Charlie shook his head. "Yes I can, too! She's standing right at the foot of my bed. Can't you guys see her?"

Don and Alan looked to their right/left respectively. They could see a hazy area that was brightly lit, but nothing else.

At their reaction, the fact they were staring where he indicated, but not responding, Charlie got a little more upset. "She's right there." Realizing he might sound a bit…well, crazy came to mind, the professor said. "I know how I must sound. Do they have me on the really GOOD drugs or something?"

Though the knowledge his son could actually see someone he and Don could not, shook Alan to the very core of his being, he responded aloud. "Actually, Charlie…Don and I may not exactly SEE her the way you can, but, if you say your mom is standing right there? I bet we are both inclined to believe you right now."

Charlie frowned. "That has to be the most ILLOGICAL thing you have ever said."

"Hey, bro, you are forgetting that mixed in with their logic, Vulcans also had a very heavy side that was all mystical. They believed in the Creator, the Other, the one Source of all life." Don pointed out.

Charlie looked like he was trying to remember something. The look of confused concentration on his face was priceless, it reminded Don so much of when they were young. Finally the professor spoke again…looking for clarification. "Original series, movies or later series?"

Alan looked over at Don. "This one's on you. I am completely clueless."

"Original series and original series movies, brother mine! Well, those are the ones I remember best. I didn't watch so much later on."

"I think when I get home, we need to pull out the DVD's. I'm not quite grabbing the ones you are referring to. "

Don began a litany. "Original series – Amok Time, Journey to Babel, The Apple…just to name a few. Movies – Star Trek The Motion Picture – Spock on Vulcan seeking Kohlinar, but hearing Vger's voice."

Suddenly grasping a memory out of the deck his brother was offering, Charlie intoned. "Your answers lie elsewhere, Spock, son of Sarek…"

"By Jove…" Alan remarked… "I think he's got it."

Don tousled Charlie's locks. "Welcome back, Chuck. You really had me freaking for a while there. Feeling a little more with us, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Sorry I let myself get so bad, Don. I know I should have called you, but literally I called in to CalSci and I wound up in the bathroom. The portable house phone was dead, Jim and my cell needed recharging, so once I got in there and really couldn't…um, leave the facilities, shall we say, … I was stuck. I had no way to call for help."

Alan smacked himself on the forehead with the palm of his right hand. "Damn it, I forgot to tell you Charlie. The house portable phone needs a new battery. The one in it is one of the recalled ones from the latest batch of bad nickel cadmium batteries. There was a message on the answering machine the other day informing us of that. I had a note in my briefcase…I just forgot to remember to tell you about it before I left on this trip. This is my fault."

"It is NOBODY's fault." Don said, firmly. "It just sort of happened. Let's all quit playing the blame game and just make sure it doesn't happen again! Okay?"

"Agreed!" Alan said.

"Amen." Charlie added. "Let's move on. When do you think they will let me out of here?"

Don frowned at his brother. "Didn't you tell me earlier you had to have some more tests?"

"Oh, yeah." Suddenly Charlie grew very subdued. "Maybe if we point out Dad is home now and you both know you need to keep a close eye on me for a while, they could do the tests outpatient?"

Alan frowned. "What tests? What are you two talking about?"

"I have been having a series of really bad headaches. Eventually I get so nauseated I can't look at food. Heck, if I think about food too much, I throw up. And, my migraine meds are not working on these." The professor seemed in a bit of a rush to explain everything.

"Okay, but what kind of tests?" Alan's immediate response was to demand this knowledge be revealed.

"Frankly, I wasn't feeling so hot when the doctor talked to me…. I don't even remember. No, Don, don't give me that look. This isn't selective memory loss, I just really can't remember."

Don frowned at him. "Yeah, right. I don't think you are going to convince me of that one, Chuckie."

Both Alan and Charlie snapped out. "Don't call him/me that!"

Don did a double take. "Oh, ganging up on me, huh?" It was actually a fairly passable Three Stooges imitation he did.

Charlie smiled a mirthless grin. "Sorry, Don. I just don't feel up to doing the knuck, knuck, knuck line right now."

"Well," Don patted his shoulder, "at least, you recognized the reference.

"Certainly." Alan remarked in a not bad Three Stooges riff himself.

Both boys looked at their father with lopsided grins. "What? Where do you think you got your sense of humor from in the first place?"


	3. Chapter 3

Imperfect, Chapter Three:

Sometimes Signals Get Crossed

By Sylvia M Bartlett

Aka Hemel Lass(ie) aka Lady Lochinvar aka HornetladySBM, now HornetladySMB!

_Chapter Three which was previously posted was just a little taste. Here's the full version. Sylvia Bartlett 5-23-2007_

Charlie woke up to sunlight glaring across his pillow. "Please," he moaned,"close the curtain."

"Have you taken to vampirism, young Charles?" Charlie opened one eye and regarded Larry Fleinhardt, dourly.

"Been watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, haven't we?"

"Indeed, it is actually a quite amusing little series, you know."

"Well, I have not had any love bites from Drusilla or Darla, Larry. I am just light sensitive from these damned headaches."

Frowning, Larry moved quickly to close the curtains. 'I'm sorry. I assumed the medication they had you on, had relieved that."

"Yeah." Charlie mustered more of a grin as the level of light went down. "No offense, Rocket Man, but you know what they say about assuming anything?"

"Ah, yes. I assume you are referring to the expression along the lines of: "It makes an ass out of you and me?" "

"Again, with the pop culture references? The universe is surely unwinding, when my favorite cosmologist uses so many of them in one conversation. It's good to see you, Larry."

"It is good to be seen by you, Charlie. Even if it is only through one eye, which keeps putting me in mind of Popeye."

"Well, I wouldn't object to a nice serving of spinach salad right about now." The younger Eppes responded. "I think hospital food is intended to make sure no one ever has an appetite again! All I have to do is look at what they call breakfast around here? And I lose my previous evening's dinner. Usually all over some poor nursing student's brand new white shoes!" Charlie gave his mentor and friend an impish grin.

"Those shoes are designed to be highly cleanable, you know, so no worries there." Larry responding rocking forward on his toes.

"I still feel bad. The poor kids have to wear the darn things the rest of the day!"

"Colorfully decorated by Charles Edward Eppes?" Larry shook his head, placing one hand alongside his face with a thoughtful expression. "Well, some might consider wearing those a privilege, Charles."

Charlie groaned. "Enough, Larry. That's just….weird! Art by Barf?"

Larry shook his head. "Okay, I wasn't going to go quite that far, Charles. However, art and beauty are in the eyes of the beholder."

"Somehow, I can not picture any one considering barf on shoes to be art, Larry." Alan said, from the doorway. "I don't know. I expect this kind of sick humor from these two, but I would have thought…"

Don interrupted his father. "Gee, Dad, you took credit for our sense of humor just yesterday. He isn't allowed to retract that this soon, is he, Charlie?"

"No way. He is stuck with the fact he's responsible for our quirky humor!" The youngest Eppes replied. "So you guys come to spring me from this pop stand."

"Charles, are you sure about this?" Was Alan's response. "Your doctor said he was 'reluctantly signing discharge papers, but you were to return immediately, if the nausea and vomiting recur.' "

Charlie patted the bag he had on the bed next to him. 'I have my auto-injectors of anti-nausea meds and pain control meds and the stuff they prescribed to relieve the amount of pressure inside my head. I am not real thrilled to be on steroids, but they assure me this is a short burst and only a temporary measure."

Don opened the bag and pulled out the small bottle of white pills, reading the label quickly. "It is just a short burst, Charlie, but Dad…you might want to clear out a room or something because the starting level is high enough, that Charlie is probably not going to sleep for the first three days and you want to make sure he doesn't achieve orbit without benefit of a rocket ship to get there. No offense, Larry."

"What do they think the nature of these headaches is that they have ascertained steroids are necessary?" Professor Fleinhardt looked more than a little worried.

"They have to do more tests to be sure. Seems that there are a couple of different camps debating which tests are the correct ones to be run. So it looks like I have about 3 or 4 days before I will even know what they are recommending. "Charlie rolled his eyes. "One of the things I hate about medical doctors…especially when they are specialists. I swear, you could put four of them in the same room, looking at the same clock and they would all come up with a different way of expressing the time! And none would agree with any of the others! I really hate hospitals. Dad, you brought the clothes I ask for, right." When Alan held out the gym sack, he snatched, unzipped the closure and looked in. "Thank God! Comfortable clothes."

"I hope you are doing the right thing coming home, little one. You are still so pale."

"Yeah, well, keep me in here with what a hospital suggests to be food and I will never get any color back. I can't seem to keep a meal from this place on board. It makes a return visit in relatively short order if you catch my drift."

Don was frowning now. "Charlie, if you are not even keeping food down, how can they think of letting you go home?"

"I am 'well hydrated and am keeping my nutritional supplementation in'." Charlie quoted a bit facetiously. "In other words, the liquid crap they give me every couple of hours does stay in and so does water. It is just what they call food I can't hang on to. When you brought me the roast beef sandwich from Krumholtz's yesterday? I didn't have any trouble keeping that it at all."

"Well, it would be a damn shame to waste one of those." Don grinned. "So, hospital food sucks that bad here, huh?"

"I would not put this on the list of places to eat a meal. That is for certain sure. They seem to manage to cook spinach until it is yellow green, which is pretty disgusting if you think about it! Larry, visit with Dad and Don for a minute. I am just going to go change." Charlie started to stand a bit too fast and immediately swayed causing 3 pairs of hands to extend to catch him, but he steadied himself by grabbing the rail on the bed. "Have to quit moving too fast. Makes the world spin every time." His eyes were closed as he said that, but he opened them and saw the worried exchanges of his father, brother and friend. "Oh, good grief, relax. They said that is perfectly normal. My BP is running low, which is actually not a bad thing…but if I move too fast, I get dizzy. That's all. They wouldn't be letting me go home if they were worried about it." He headed for the bathroom. "I'll be out in just a few minutes."

Larry looked at the remaining Eppes. "What exactly brought Charles here? When Amita called me and said he was hospitalized, I cut short my little post space sabbatical and came at once. She told me where he was, so I came here first thing this morning. How did this all start?"

Don sat on the edge of Charlie's bed and began to explain, while Alan took a seat in the chair in the room.

Fleinhardt listened to the entire tale with a thoughtful expression. When all was told, he spoke slowly. "As I recall, headaches seem to run in your family, don't they?"

"Actually, that is true. We all have them. Oddly enough, the causes seem to vary with every headache. We all have some allergies, Charlie, Don and I tend to get sinus infections fairly frequently."

"And Charlie has had headaches since he was little, but no one ever suggested they were migraines. In fact, they said specifically they were NOT true migraines. There almost always seems to be a medical cause – sinus infection, ear infection, that eye problem – what was it called, Dad?"

"I don't know. It wasn't pink eye, conjuvitis…it was something else. He's had it several times. The eye does get red, but the ophthalmologist always has certified it is not pink eye and is not contagious. Wonder if the hospital checked with him."

Charlie came out of the bathroom, clothed and ready to go. "It is called uveitis, Dad. I did have it this time, but they think this set of headaches is from more than just the uveitis. That is part of why they want the additional tests."

"So, we ready to make the great escape." Don queried.

"Just waiting for my shades." Charlie replied. "Wonder how much longer…"

The door swung open and a pretty nurse bustled in. "Well, Professor, I hear you are leaving us. Here are your new sunglasses. Remember, you don't have to take these off. They will adjust very quickly to changes in lighting. You should even wear them inside and especially when you are working on your computer. They will control the amount of light entering your eyes and you may find they reduce your headache pain considerably."

"Guess the kids in my class will start calling me a 'four-eyed geek' now." Charlie tried to make light the new addition to his wardrobe. He took the glasses out of their case and slipped them on. "Do I look totally nerdish?"

"Actually, Charlie…you look pretty cool. Those things almost have a Top Gun or MIB feel to them."

Charlie grinned. "Well, they are Raybans!"

"If you will wait just a few moments, the transportation department is on the way with your chariot."

Charlie frowned. "Oh, man. I have to go out in a wheel chair. That is so NOT cool."

"Deal, Charlie." Don retorted. "You know the routine. It's the rule!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever!"

5


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